


Dream to See

by A_Song_of_Quill_and_Feather



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Era, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23405641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Song_of_Quill_and_Feather/pseuds/A_Song_of_Quill_and_Feather
Summary: Twin to the Boy-Who-Lived, Dahlia Potter grew up alongside Harry under the care of the Dursley’s. She always did her best to keep herself happy while also protecting Harry when she could. Thus when the twins Hogwarts letters come she is ready to move forward, away from the apparent hatred of the Dursley’s and into the magic that a part of her had always known she held.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	1. An Eleventh Birthday

Early in the morning on the day the Potter twins first letter to Hogwarts arrives at number four Privet Drive, Dahlia Potter wakes from another strange dream in which she wanders through an old house she thought she recognized only to exit out into a strange forest she knew she recognized if only from her dreams. She turns over in the small bed, blinking through the dreariness of her sleep and pushing out the strangely real feeling she's always gotten from her dreams, and looks at Harry still asleep in the bed just next to her.

The pair of them, even as they got bigger and older with every year, share a bed that was fit into the cupboard beneath the stairs. It had been their room for as long as they've known, despite the fact that there was a perfectly fine second bedroom upstairs that at present was deemed their cousin Dudley's where he kept all his toys. Dahlia sometimes wonders if they'd be forced to share this tiny room the rest of their lives, though she then takes some solace when she remembers that they'll only have to share it until they come of age and can leave.

At least, she thinks as she watches Harry huff a bit in his sleep, they are no longer confined within the cupboard at all times outside of schooling now that summer holiday has begun. The two weeks following the incident at the zoo where they were sentenced within the small space had driven Dahlia quite stir-crazy, a fact she felt very sorry for if only for Harry who'd had to put up with it all.

Their first day of freedom she'd been sure to make it up to him by swiping a bar of chocolate from a shop while they wandered about to avoid Dudley and his gang of friends. She didn't particularly like stealing, and she certainly didn't do it often if only for the risk of getting caught and ending them both in trouble (because the Dursley's rarely thought of the twins as separate entities and thus always punished them together). But she'd felt the need to do something for Harry and she knows they both quite like chocolate and sweets, and they have little money between them for her to be able to rightly procure the gift.

They still have a bit of the chocolate left, deciding to ration it so it lasts as long as they can manage, and so she reaches to the small shelf nearby and pulls it down to snap off two little pieces for them both.

Harry, woken by her movement, blinks blearily at her in the darkness of the cupboard as she sets the remaining chocolate back in its spot and settles back onto the bed. He reaches for his glasses and settles them onto his face while Dahlia pulls the little string that lights up their space. "Chocolate before breakfast?" He asks, his voice hushed as they both could hear their aunt moving about in the kitchen.

"Never a wrong time for chocolate, Harry," Dahlia informs him, handing him his piece before nibbling on her own. "Besides," she frowns, though she's always found that a hard thing to do when eating sweets, "I had another one of those dreams and they always leave me feeling off." She finishes off her piece, "and the chocolate helps."

"The one in the woods?" Harry inquires, having heard plenty from his twin about the strange dreams she's subject to have.

"And the house." She worries a bit at the inside of her lip, "I swear Harry, it's a home I've seen before, I just can't place it."

"Any voices this time?" Harry asks.

Dahlia shakes her head, "no, the house was empty this time around." Sometimes she'd hear voices through the house, usually the same two. A woman's voice that sounded sweet and comforting and always made Dahlia feel warm, and a man's voice that was usually louder and more excited sounding and always made Dahlia feel happy. The voices almost always were paired together in some conversation through the house.

There was occasionally a third voice, not tied to the others. A man's voice that was sharp and threatening and always made Dahlia feel chilled to her core and always woke her up with tears on her cheeks.

Harry laid back down for a moment, Dahlia fussing with her hair which held the same untidy curl to it as Harry's despite the difference in coloring between them. She braids it carefully as Harry thinks and finally once she'd finished he offers, "maybe it's where we lived before?"

Dahlia tilts her head a second before shrugging, "maybe." It was something she'd considered, the familiarity of the house being a pleasant one and she can only imagine that the home she'd lived in before Privet Drive was much more pleasant. "If so," she ponders, feeling a familiar clench in her chest at the thought, "do you think the voices would be our parents?"

"Maybe." Harry echoes and she knows just from the look on his face that he's feeling the same clenching feeling in his chest.

They sit a few more minutes in quiet, but then both their faces scrunch a bit at a horrible smell coming in from under the cupboard door. They head out for breakfast, hoping it's not the source of the smell, and find a large metal tub that seemed to be filled with gray water and what looked like dirty rags.

"What's this?" Harry asks their Aunt Petunia, who gets the same pinched look of annoyance she always gets when one of them deigns to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," She tells them, Harry moving to look in the bowl again while Dahlia moves about sitting at the table, not particularly wanting to think about the end of summer and the beginning of their time at Stonewall High, a school that Dudley enjoyed making them feel worse and worse about.

Harry eventually joins Dahlia at the table, along with Dudley and Uncle Vernon who both held wrinkled noses at the smell of the twins uniforms. Vernon opens his newspaper and Dudley bangs his smelting stick on the table, both doing exactly what they always do.

The click of the mail slot reached their ears and Uncle Vernon says without looking away from his paper, "get the mail, Dudley."

Dahlia doesn't know why Vernon ever tells Dudley to do anything, because as is expected Dudley immediately says "make Harry get it."

Which Vernon always responds with, "Get the mail, Harry."

"Make Dudley get it," Harry responds, though Dahlia sees him already moving from his seat to go get the mail.

Which is good because Vernon then states, still not looking out from his paper, "Poke him with your smelting stick, Dudley." Dahlia frowns at her eggs as Harry dodges Dudley's stick and wonders how much trouble they'd get in if she hid the thing away for the rest of the summer.

Dahlia was considering the best places to hide the smelting stick when Vernon shouts, "Hurry up, boy! What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" Dahlia glances up from her eggs and towards Harry where he walked back into the kitchen, holding two letters in one hand separate from the ones he hands over to their uncle.

She continues to watch him as he sits down slowly, his green eyes glancing over at her before handing her one of the yellow envelopes. She peers at it curiously and feels her eyes widen just the slightest bit at the realization that its a letter for her, with no mistaking it as it was addressed as such:

_Ms. D. Potter_

_The Cupboard under the Stairs_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

Dahlia glances at Harry's own letter quickly and sees a similar addressing, the only difference being the name atop it. They lock eyes for a second, both never having received a letter in their lives, before turning the envelopes over.

They were sealed with wax, a purple seal that bore a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake all surrounding a large letter _H_. They both started breaking the seal and pulling out the letter while Uncle Vernon read his own bill and post card, making some comment on Aunt Marge apparently being ill that neither of the twins paid much of any mind to.

They'd very nearly gotten the letters open and ready to read when Dudley ruins it as he's oft want to do. "Dad!" he says suddenly, "dad, Harry and Dahlia's got something."

The letters were each jerked out of their hands by uncle Vernon one after the other, Harry jumped into action reaching across Dahlia to try and snatch the letter back while saying, "those're ours!"

"Who'd be writing to you?" Uncle Vernon sneers, shaking one of the letters open with one hand and glancing at it. Dahlia watches as his face goes from its often red to a sickly green and then finally landing on a pale white before he stammers out, "P-P-Petunia!"

Dudley attempts to grab one of the letters to read it himself but Uncle Vernon holds it high so none of the children can get at it. Aunt Petunia comes over and grabs one of them to read herself, she looks for a moment like she might faint, clutching her throat and making a choked noise. "Vernon! Oh my goodness— Vernon!"

The two of them stare at one another, seeming to have forgotten the children in the room. Dudley, who wasn't used to being ignored, gave his father a sharp tap with the smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter," he whines loudly.

" _I_ want to read it," Dahlia snaps, "as they are Harry's and mine."

But Uncle Vernon wouldn't have it, croaking out "get out, the three of you."

Harry didn't move from his spot beside Dahlia, "I WANT MY LETTER!" He shouts at Vernon, and Dahlia glances between her aunt and uncle, each with a letter in hand and ponders which would be the easier to snatch from.

"They're our letters," she repeats harshly.

"Let _me_ see it!" Dudley demands in a way that makes Dahlia want to smack him, because truly he had even less right to the letters than their aunt and uncle did.

"OUT!" Vernon roars before he stands and grabs Dudley and Harry by the scruffs of their necks and throws them into the hall, he stops by the door and points at Dahlia. "Out!" he shouts again at her and she glares fiercely before moving, not wanting to risk getting grabbed and dragged out as well.

The door slams behind her. Dudley, Harry, and her all scrambling over who'd listen at the keyhole, though Dahlia decides instead to not fuss with fighting and instead drops to her stomach and listens at the crack between door and floor, where after a second more of fighting Harry joins her.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia's voice was quivering, "look at the address— how could they possibly know where they sleep?" Dahlia wonders a second at that, having been a bit stunned at the arrival of the letter itself to not notice that it had listed quite specifically the cupboard under the stairs. "You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching— spying— might be following us," mutters Uncle Vernon wildly, sounding more paranoid than Dahlia's ever heard the man before.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want—"

Vernon was pacing, Dahlia able to see his shiny black shoes through the crack, "no," he says after a few pacing lengths, "no, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer…. Yes, that's best… we won't do anything…"

"But—" Petunia did not sound so sure of the plan.

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Let alone two of them!" Vernon sounds positively flustered, and Dahlia knew he was likely red as a tomato in the face. "Didn't we swear when we took them in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

Dahlia's brow furrows, and Harry met her gaze. She wonders what dangerous nonsense it was that had their uncle so concerned, but they didn't get to hear more because Uncle Vernon noticed the time and left for work. Dahlia and Harry retreated themselves into the cupboard, though not before Dahlia asked Petunia for her letter only to be shooed from the kitchen where her aunt spent most of the rest of the day.

When their uncle returns from work that evening he does something he'd never done before in their life; he visits them in their cupboard.

"Where's our letters?" Harry asks the second Uncle Vernon squeezed through the door.

"Who's writing to us?" Dahlia asks after.

"No one. It was addressed to you by mistake," Uncle Vernon says shortly, "I have burned them."

"It was not a mistake!" Harry shouts angrily.

"It had our cupboard on it." Dahlia points out rather sharply as well. Though her voice was more controlled in its anger.

"Silence!" Vernon yells, which shook a few spiders loose from their spots on the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths, seeming to try to reach some place of calm before forcing a smile upon his face which looked quite painful.

Dahlia would really rather he didn't try to make it seem nice, like he was actually friendly. So she simply glares as he cleared his throat and says, "er— yes, well— about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking… the two of you are getting a bit big for it, as well as a bit old for sharing a bed… we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

"Why?" Dahlia inquires, "why now?"

"Don't ask questions!" snaps their uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now. We'll be getting a second bed for the room tomorrow." Then he left them in the small space that had been their bedroom for ten years.

Dahlia, feeling cross, snatches up the chocolate bar and breaks another two pieces off despite them having had some this morning already. She eats hers quickly and hands the other to Harry, who was frowning as hard as she was.

It doesn't take long for them to get their things up into the second bedroom. They sit together on the bed and take in the surroundings, which was primarily filled with toys that Dudley had gotten, and broken, over the years. They could easily hear Dudley downstairs bawling at his mother, "I don't _want_ them in there… I _need_ that room… make them get out…"

Dahlia wants to shove her face in a pillow and scream, that or scream at Dudley who had always been spoiled to the point of disaster. She wonders if he'll ever grow out of it and decides that even if he did she'd likely still want to scream at him for the years of suffering he's inflicted upon her and Harry.

Harry sighs beside her before laying back on the bed, an action that Dahlia follows in. "You know yesterday I'd have given anything for us to be up here." He spoke softly, though the tone of annoyance could be heard just barely laced in. Dahlia nods, and he continues "but now I think I'd rather be in the cupboard if it meant we could have those letters."

"Yeah," Dahlia sighs, turning over on her side to face Harry. "Me too." She curls up against him and shuts her eyes. Wondering if she thinks about it hard enough if she could see in her dreams what was in those letters.

* * *

More letters arrived, the address changed to reflect Dahlia and Harry's new room, and as the week progressed their uncle got madder and madder. Sleeping under the mail slot, nailing it shut, and staying home from work to keep the twins from getting even a single letter in their hands. He nailed any slot in wall or window that a letter could fit through. By Saturday they got even more out of hand, showing up in strange places, Uncle Vernon calling the post office and dairy furiously and Petunia shredding letters in her food processor. Dudley, seemed for his part equally amazed and confused by whoever was wanting to speak to the twins so badly.

Then, on Sunday which had brought a smile to Vernons face at the assumption that no post would arrive on Sunday, letters flew down the kitchen chimney. The Dursley's ducked out of the way of the whizzing paper, but both Harry and Dahlia shared only a look before leaping to try and grab at least one before they could be taken away again.

"Out! OUT!" Vernon shouted, grabbing both of the twins about the waist and tossing them into the hall. Once Petunia and Dudley were out of the kitchen themselves he slammed the door but letters could still be heard streaming into the room, and his face grew more flushed. "That does it," he'd said, trying to sound calm but failing. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

Dahlia very much had wanted to argue more, but Harry dragged her along up the stairs where they packed.

The Dursley's and the Potter twins then drove and drove, Vernon occasionally changing direction as though they were being trailed.

Which, Dahlia supposed, it was possible they were. Especially when the next morning found them in a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city, and the letters still found them there with the address updated perfectly.

They drove around more, Vernon seeming absolutely mad in his search for a place where the seemingly omniscient senders of the letters would be unable to find them. Dahlia, from her spot in the car, wondered how far he'd go to avoid this. At a certain point she figured he'd have to admit there was no escaping it and just let them have the letters.

Rain fell on the car, and Dudley said something about TV and it being Monday. After a second Harry turned to her and nudged her, "tomorrows Tuesday." He whispered it, but Uncle Vernon was out of the car looking around outside where he'd parked them on the coast, and Aunt Petunia was distracted by her own thoughts and Dudley's whining to pay them any mind.

"Yes," Dahlia remarks, not quite catching onto what he was on about yet. "Often comes after Monday, Tuesday does."

"Our birthday." He clarifies with a twinge of smile at her sass. And Dahlia can't help but return the expression. True, their birthday was never exactly fun as the Dursley's hardly put any effort into it, having gotten them each a coat hanger last year as well as an old pair of Uncle Vernon's socks for Harry and a much too long and old dress of Aunt Petunia's for Dahlia. But it was still their birthday, and they tried to at least make it nice for each other.

And you only turned eleven once after all.

Uncle Vernon found his place, sending them across some water to a shack on a rocky island. The location, despite it's decrepitness and the chill to it, seemed to bring Uncle Vernon a lot of joy as he spoke cheerfully and almost seemed to have a bounce in his step as they got ready for bed. A storm blew up around them and Dahlia would have sworn the shack shook a little with every gust of wind. But still, Vernon was happy, which only made Dahlia hope more letter's came if only to ruin it for him.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon went to sleep in a small bedroom, and Dudley was in a bed his mother had made up on the moth-eaten sofa. Harry and Dahlia on the other hand we left to find themselves a soft bit of ground and ended up curled together under a thin and ragged blanket.

The storm raged ferociously outside and kept either of the twins from finding sleep. It was cold and loud and both of them were rather hungry. Harry rolls over onto his side, and Dahlia lays quietly on her back, after a few minutes Harry pokes her side and she glances at him where he is facing her. "Five minutes." He informs her and she smiles though she didn't feel very happy.

Though she supposes she should try and still be happy for their birthday. If only because it meant one year closer to leaving

There was a creak of something outside, and Dahlia wonders how structurally safe the house really was here. Harry pokes her again but doesn't speak, and she knows that means four minutes.

She wonders vaguely if she would dream of the house when she eventually finds sleep. If she finds sleep at least. She'd like that, she believes, at least if it was with the pleasant voices and not the bad one. It wouldn't be so bad a dream for her birthday, especially if the voices are their parents like Harry thinks.

Harry pokes her again, three minutes, and she wishes she could share the dreams with him.

There was a weird sound of slapping outside, like something hitting a rock she supposed. Harry pokes her again, two minutes, and she looks at him again and smiles. There was a crunching sound and Harry's face scrunches worriedly with confusion.

He pokes her again, and she silently counts down in her head so she could beat him to saying happy birthday.

She was on three… two… one.. And about to speak when the whole shack shivers and both the twins sit bolt upright, turning to look at the door which was shaking as someone outside knocks upon it.

Whoever it was knocked again, it was really quite loud and Dahlia wondered if it was a giant or something knocking so heavily. Dudley jerked awake upon the sofa.

"Where's the cannon?" He says rather stupidly.

A crash comes from the room their aunt and uncle were in, and Vernon comes skidding into the main room. He is holding a rifle in his hands and Dahlia frowns as he shouts, "who's there? I warn you— I'm armed!"

There was a pause, and then the door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges before landing with a crash upon the ground.

Dahlia stares with Harry at the figure in the doorway and wonders if she'd been right in wondering if it was a giant knocking upon the door. The man, truly a giant of a man, fills out the doorway, his face was almost completely hidden by a long and shaggy beard and mane of hair, but Dahlia could see his eyes, glinting black in the low light.

He squeezes his way through the door and into the hut, having to stoop a bit so his head just brushed the ceiling. He then bends down and picks up the door, fitting it easily back into its frame and Dahlia thought rather puzzled that that was rather polite for someone who'd just technically broken in.

The giant man looks at them all in the room, "couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey…" He moves towards the sofa, where Dudley sits frozen with fear in a way that if Dahlia wasn't so confused at the situation would have made her chuckle even just a little. "Budge up, yeh great lump." Dudley squeaks, and Dahlia smirks even in her state of confusion, before he rushes to hide behind his mother who was crouching behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's the two of yeh!" Says the giant who was looking at the two of them with what must be a smile if Dahlia were to judge from the crinkling around his eyes. "Las' time I saw you two, you was only babies," he says, "yeh both look the images of yer parents. Though, yeh've switched the eyes between yeh." Dahlia glances at Harry and saw he was as confused, and enraptured, as she was. She wonders, vaguely, if what the giant was saying was true. The Dursley's didn't have any photos of their parents, and neither of the twins had much memory of them either.

Some part of Dahlia though knew he was being honest.

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise before speaking, "I demand that you leave at once, sir!" Dahlia wonders where Vernon thought he had any leverage against a man who had just broken down a door. "You are breaking and entering!"

The stranger didn't look much affected by Uncle Vernons words, "Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune." The giant reaches over the back of the sofa and jerks the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands before he bends it into a knot as though he were just tying a shoelace before tossing it into a corner. Uncle Vernon makes a noise but the giant stranger just turns back to the twins, "anyway— Harry, Dahlia— a happy birthday to yeh. Got summit for yeh here— I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

Harry and Dahlia both watch as he pulls from inside a pocket of his black overcoat a slightly squashed box and presents it to the two of them. Dahlia's brow furrows and Harry, with trembling fingers, opens it to reveal a large, sticky chocolate cake with _Happy Birthday_ written on it in green icing.

Looking at it, Dahlia felt a tightness in her throat and when she looked up at the giant she felt instantly that she liked him very much. Harry seems to feel the same way as he looks up with the same struck look to him, "thank you." Dahlia whispers while looking back at the cake and realizing they'd never had a birthday cake, at least not that she can recall.

"Who are you?" Harry asks and the giant chuckles.

"True, I haven't introduced meself." He extends his large hand to them, "Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." Both Harry and Dahlia shake his hand, though it was more like he shakes their arms. He then says something about tea, and starts a fire in the fireplace which warms the room up considerably, but Dahlia was stuck on what he'd said.

 _Hogwarts_. It was a rather strange sounding thing, or place as it sounded like it was. She found— as he prepared tea and sausages and Vernon told Dudley to not touch a single thing given by the giant— that she very much wanted to hear more about whatever _Hogwarts_ was.

He passes three sausages to both Harry and Dahlia, who both eat the sausages and find them tasting more wonderful than anything else in their hungry states. When they finish with the food, Harry glances just fleetingly at Dahlia and they share a look of confusion. Nothing had been really explained and Dahlia knew they both were very much wanting to know more.

"I'm sorry, but we still don't really know who you are." Dahlia speaks up.

The giant takes a big drink of tea and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before saying, "call me Hagrid, everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm keeper of Keys at Hogwarts— yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Er— no," Harry says, looking a bit sheepish as he does.

Hagrid, for his part, looks quite shocked.

"Sorry," Harry says quickly.

" _Sorry_?" Barks Hagrid who turns his gaze to the Dursley's, Dahlia follows his gaze and sees them shrink under the look. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?" Dahlia wasn't sure what he was on about, but she did know looking at the Dursley's and hearing his ranting that something had been kept from them. And if Hagrid was to be believed it was something rather important and to do with their parents. As well as something to do with the letters they were supposed to have gotten, which made her frown and glare towards the Dursley's.

"All what?" she asks, her voice rather sharp.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thunders. "Now wait jus' one second!" he leaps to his feet, and in his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut even more fully. The Dursleys were cowering even more against the wall. "Do you mean ter tell me," he growls towards them, "that these two know nothin' abou' — about ANYTHING?"

Harry was frowning beside her, and he speaks up "we know _some_ things," he says. "We can, you know, do math and stuff."

Hagrid waves his hand and clarifies, "about _our_ world, I mean. _Your_ world. _My_ world. _Yer parents' world_."

So it did have to do with their parents, which stokes a bit of the anger towards her aunt and uncle more so. She'd always hated how they never talked about them to her and Harry. When she was little she wrote it off as Petunia not wanting to talk about her dead sister because she was sad, a thing Dahlia could understand because she knew she'd be devastated if anything ever happened to Harry. But as she grew older, and bold enough to ask after their parents, she learned it was nothing to do with sadness. Or at least, it mostly seemed to do with something akin to hatred.

"What world?" she asks.

Hagrid looks fit to explode. "DURSLEY!" he booms. And Uncle Vernon, who had gone even more pale than when he'd read their letters, he mutters something that Dahlia couldn't hear and Hagrid turns back to stare wildly at Harry and her.

"But yeh must know about yer mum and dad," he says. "I mean, they're _famous_. You're _famous_." And that puzzles Dahlia more than most else Hagrid had said, because surely if their parents were famous it would be impossible to not know anything about them.

"What?" Harry asks, clearly as puzzled as Dahlia, "our— our mum and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know… yeh don' know…" Hagrid was running his fingers through his hair and fixing them with a bewildered stare. "Yeh don' know what yeh _are_?" he asks finally.

Uncle Vernon seemed to suddenly refound his voice because he commands, "stop! Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell them anything!"

"You don't have a right to keep anything from us!" Dahlia speaks up with a fierce glare directed at her uncle.

Hagrid seems to share her sentiment as he gave Vernon Dursley a furious look and speaks with a voice trembling with rage. "She's right that one!" He shakes his head a second, "you never told 'em? Never told 'em what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer 'em? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from 'em all these years?"

"Kept _what_ from us?" Harry asks eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yells uncle Vernon in panic, Petunia gasping in horror behind him.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," is all Hagrid says in response. "Harry— yer a wizard. And yer a witch yerself, Dahlia."

There was only silence in the hut after, the only sound being that of the ocean and the wind. Dahlia's own brow furrows while Harry's eyes widen in disbelief. "I'm a what?" he gasp.

"A wizard, o'course." Hagrid says, sitting himself back on the sofa. "An' a thumpin' good'un I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit." He looks at them both, "with a mum an' dad like yours, whet else would the pair o' yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letters." Hagrid pulls out two familiar looking yellow envelopes, and holds them out to them both. Harry takes his while Dahlia takes hers and they each pull out the letter to read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

_of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

( _Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards_ )

Dear Ms. Potter

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

_Deputy Headmistress_

Dahlia stares rather shocked at the letter, and tries to let it sink in. Witches and Wizards were real. _Okay_. Thus magic was real. _Okay_. She and Harry were apparently a witch and wizard because their parents were a witch and a wizard. _Okay_. And apparently they've been accepted at a school for this all. _Okay_.

And apparently the Dursley's had known about this and had seen fit to keep it from them. _Not okay._

A few minutes pass and Harry asks the first question, "what does it mean, they await my owl?"

Hagrid claps a hand to his forehead with a startling amount of force and exclaims, "Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me." He pulls from yet another pocket of his overcoat an owl— an alive, and rather ruffled looking, owl— along with parchment and a quill. He then scribbles a note that both Harry and Dahlia read upside down.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_Given Harry and Dahlia their letters._

_Taking them to buy their things tomorrow._

_Weather's horrible. Hope you're well._

_Hagrid._

He then rolls up the note and gives it to the owl before going to the door and throwing it out into the storm. He comes back and sits down again acting as though this wasn't such a strange thing, which Dahlia supposes maybe it isn't all that strange for him.

It certainly isn't the strangest thing that's happened in the last week.

"Where was I?" Hagrid muses, but before he can continue Uncle Vernon steps forward looking still pale but quite angry as well.

"They're not going," he states.

Hagrid grunts. "I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop them."

"A what?" Harry asks, clearly interested.

"A Muggle," Hagrid explains, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck that you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took them in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," Uncle Vernon states, confirming to Dahlia that he knew and kept it from them, making her angrier with each word. "Swore we'd stamp it out of them! Wizard indeed!"

"You _knew_?" Harry says, "You _knew_ I'm a— a wizard?"

Dahlia scowls, "Of course they _knew_ , and they kept it from us like they've kept everything else!"

"Knew!" Aunt Petunia shrieks suddenly, her head shaking. " _Knew_! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that— that _school_ — and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats." Dahlia fumes, and she knows Harry is too from how stiff he is beside her. "I was the only one who saw her for what she was— a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stops to draw a deep breath before continuing to rant on. Dahlia realizes this was the most her aunt had ever spoken of their parents.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you two, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as— as— _abnormal_ — and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you two!"

Dahlia felt like screaming, and Harry had gone very white and still beside her. It was him who spoke, "blown up? You told us they died in a car crash?"

"CAR CRASH!" Hagrid roars, jumping up angrily enough that the Dursley's scurried back to the corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry and Dahlia Potter not knowin' their own story when every kid in our world knows their names!"

"But why? What happened?" Dahlia asks, Harry nodding urgently along.

Hagrid's face lost the anger very quick, replaced with a rather anxious look suddenly. "I never expected this," he says, his voice low and worried. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, now, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh— but someone's gotta— yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowing'."

He throws a dirty look at the Dursley's and Dahlia felt rather like doing the same, but she noticed Harry shifting anxiously beside her and decided instead to reach and grab his hand. Holding it tight the two of them steadied themselves to hear what really happened to their parents. Dahlia had a feeling it would be worse than a car crash.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh— mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it…"

He sat down and stares into the fire for a few seconds rather than look at the twins huddled close together. Finally he says, "it begins, I suppose, with— with a person called— but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows—"

"Who?" Dahlia asks.

"Well— I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?" Harry asks.

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went… bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was…" Hagrid gulps but no words come out.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggests but Hagrid's head shakes.

"Nah— can't spell it. All right— _Voldemort_." Hagrid shudders and Dahlia blinks, her hand tightening in Harry's because suddenly she felt as though she'd heard the name somewhere. But before she could try to remember Hagrid was continuing and she had to listen. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this— this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too — some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, you two. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches… terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him— an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before… probably knew that they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em… maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you were all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You both were just a year old. He came ter yer house an'— an'—" Hagrid pauses, pulling out a dirty spotted handkerchief and blows his nose loud like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he says. "But it's that sad— knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find— anyway…

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then — an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing— he tried to kill you, Harry, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh— took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even— but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous."

He looks between the two of them, "No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you two, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age— the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts— an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."

Harry's hand was stiff in hers, gripping tightly and she glances over at him and sees him wince a second and his free hand reaches up to touch the scar on his head hidden beneath some hair. She squeezes his hand and he meets her gaze. Hagrid sits watching the pair of them sadly.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledores orders. Had to sort through some mess teh find yeh Dahlia, hidden away. Suppose that's how he missed yeh." Hagrid pauses, "brought yeh ter this lot…"

"Load of old tosh," Uncle Vernon says and Harry jumps beside Dahlia, apparently having forgotten that the Dursley's were here as well. Uncle Vernon's courage has returned it seems and he glares at Hagrid with clenched fists before saying, "Now, you two listen here, I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured —- and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion—" Dahlia glares and nearly gets up if not for Harry's hand tight in hers. "Asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types— just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end—"

Hagrid didn't have a twin brother holding him down and so he leapt up from his spot on the couch and pointed a battered pink umbrella that he pulls out from his coat at Vernon. "I'm warning you, Dursley— I'm warning you— one more word…"

Vernon, in danger of being speared through with an umbrella by a man who'd knocked down a whole door, once again lost his courage. Flattening himself against the wall and falling silent. Once again Dahlia finds she very much likes Hagrid.

"That's better," Hagrid states, breathing heavily and sitting back onto the battered sofa.

"What happened to Vol-, sorry— I mean, You-Know-Who?" Harry asks, bringing them away from Vernon and back to the questions both twins had.

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see… he was gettin' more an' more powerful— why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don't believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on— I dunno what it was, no one does— but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

Dahlia notices that Hagrid looks at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes. But when she glances at Harry from the corner of her eyes she sees that he didn't look pleased or proud at all, rather he looked rather unsure of what Hagrid was saying. "Hagrid," he speaks up quietly and Dahlia squeezes his hand again, disliking whenever her brother got quiet like this. "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."

Hagrid chuckles, which seemed to surprise Harry.

"Not a wizard, eh?" Hagrid leans just a bit forward, looking at them both now with a smirk to his face. "Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Harry looked away and into the fire, likely thinking of the same things Dahlia was. The strange incidents that had happened around them and made their aunt and uncle furious. Keeping out fo reach of Dudley's gang when running, Harry's hair growing back overnight when Petunia cut it, Dahlia knowing and stopping Harry from falling and breaking his leg once. Even just a few weeks back, when they'd been at the zoo and Harry had apparently spoken with the snake.

Harry looks up from the fire. Looking first at Dahlia, the two of them coming to the same conclusion that Hagrid was right. And when they both looked back to the giant man he was positively beaming at them.

"See?" Hagrid says, "Harry and Dahlia Potter— not a wizard or witch." He scoffs in a teasing way, "you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

But it seems Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight. "Haven't I told you they're not going?" He hisses, "They're going to Stonewall High and they'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and they need all sorts of rubbish— spell books and wands and—"

"If they want ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop them," growls Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's kids goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Their name's been down ever since they were born. Their off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and they won't know themself. They'll be with youngsters of their own sort, fer a change, an' they'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled—-"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH THEM MAGIC TRICKS!" Uncle Vernon yells.

But apparently he'd finally pushed too far as Hagrid seizes his umbrella and whirls it over his head, "NEVER — INSULT — ALBUS — DUMBLEDORE — IN — FRONT — OF — ME!" Hagrid thunders as he brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley after which there was a flash of purple light and a sound like a firecracker. Dudley squeals and in the next second Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his bottom, howling in pain. Dahlia could see a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers and brought her free hand up to her face to muffle her laughter.

Uncle Vernon roars, clearly not finding it funny like Dahlia does, and pulls Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room. He cast one terrified look at Hagrid before slamming the door behind them.

Hagrid looks at his umbrella and strokes his beard before saying ruefully, "shouldn'ta lost me temper, but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

"I thought it was brilliant Hagrid," Dahlia says still smiling from the sight of her cousin with a tail.

Hagrid casts a sideways look at the two of them under his bushy eyebrows, but she can see he smiles a second at her words before he coughs a second awkwardly. "Be grateful if yeh two didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he says, "I'm— er— not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff— one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job—"

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" Harry asks.

"Oh, well— I was at Hogwarts meself but I— er— got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?" Dahlia asks.

"It's gettin' late and we've gots lots ter do tomorrow," says Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that." He shrugs off his large coat and tosses it towards them. "Yeh two can kip under that," he tells them. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

Harry and Dahlia slowly settle back onto the ground, hands still clasped and now with a significantly warmer coat over them. They lay there, facing one another as the sound of Hagrid upon the couch slowly turns to snoring. Harry's own eyes eventually drift mostly shut, but before he slips completely to sleep Dahlia whispers. "Harry?"

"Yeah?" He replies, half-asleep though he reopens his eyes to meet hers.

"Happy birthday." She says, remembering she'd wanted to say it before him.

He smiles, sleepily and she returns it. "Happy birthday, Dahlia." He squeezes her hand and soon enough they've both drifted to sleep.


	2. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dahlia and Harry go shopping for their school supplies and receive their wands.

_“You’ve got a future quidditch star there!” A man’s voice laughed, carrying loudly through the air._

_Dahlia spun a bit on the cobbled path she found herself on before she spotted the house before her. Which was strange, because she almost always was within the house at the start of her dreams. She’d exit it from time to time out into a thick and foggy wood but that wasn’t where she was now. No, now she was standing in what seemed to be a front garden to the house she’d visited so often in her dreams. Looking about, the woods seemed further away as well._

_And there were voices coming from within, and not the usual ones she was used to hearing in her dreams._

_“I swear if he falls off that thing it’s your head, Sirius!” a woman’s voice— the one Dahlia recognizes instantly as one of the usual voices of her dreams— chastises though it holds a lightness to it that makes Dahlia think she’s not overly concerned or cross with the man._

_Dahlia moves along the cobbled path towards the door of the house. Some windows look into the ground floor but she can only make out the faint movement of figures through the glass. Details all lost to the frosted look of it._

_“Harry’s already a natural dear!” the man often accompanying the woman’s voice in Dahlia’s dreams calls out in reply, “No need to worry over him falling.”_

_Another new mans voice, different than first speaks next, softer but no less jovial than the first. “I seem to recall you falling plenty over the years, Prongs.”_

_“I object to that assessment! I’ve never fallen from a broom in my life, Moony.” The familiar mans voice states, sounding rather playfully offended. It made Dahlia smile just slightly, and she moved quicker to grab at the front door and enter._

_But as her hand touches the metal doorknob she blinks and in a moment of disorientation finds herself not out front any longer but up the stairs in a child's bedroom. She can still hear the conversation from the sitting room though, and starts her way in that direction._

_“Now what have I told you about lying around the children,” the woman’s voice teased, “we want our kids to be the honest sort don’t we?”_

_The familiar man—Prongs he’d been called, which seems an odd name to Dahlia— scoffed as Dahlia made her way from the bedroom and towards the stairs. “The pair of you, always teaming up against me. Quite unfair.” Dahlia can hear the softer-spoken man laughing._

_“I’d say you deserve it, considering that when the three of us got here your daughter was disappeared.” The laughing man remarks, which earns a groan from Prongs._

_“She loves that bloody cloak,”he bemoans, “almost as much as she loves my wand.”_

_“Well maybe you should stop handing them over so willingly,” the softer man remarks. Dahlia steps onto the stairs and starts her way down. She notices absently that they creak as she moves making her move with more care, afraid of being to loud as though it would startle the voices away._

_“Like you can say no to her any better, Moony.” Prongs admonishes, “I see you over there sneaking my daughter chocolates. Gonna make her as fat as my nephew looked in that photo if you keep that up.”_

_“James,” the woman’s voice warns and Dahlia stops in her creeping steps down the stairs, blinking at the name. “No need to be rude.”_

_The man was James, and they’d mentioned Harry earlier. Dahlia blinks a bit more, trying to process it all. So the voices were their parents, they have to be. She’d never seen them before, not in the dreams. The voices had always been in another room, she’d never been able to get in the same one as them to see the source._

_She desperately wanted to see the sources of these voices now._

_“Is it really rude if they’re not here to hear it?”_

_“Listen to your wife there, Prongs, don’t want to be getting in trouble.” The laughing man teases andDahlia starts back down the stairs, quicker in her pace._

_“Enough with this,” the woman— who Dahlia is near certain now is her mother— states, “I’ve got the cake all ready.” And soon enough Dahlia was down the stairs and turning towards the sitting room where the voices could now be heard singing Happy Birthday. But as she turned the corner about to step within she woke up._

* * *

It was Harry shaking her shoulder, and she blinks blearily even though she felt plenty awake despite having just been asleep. Hagrid was sat up on the sofa stretching. “Best be off, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an’ buy all yer stuff fer school.”

Dahlia was still coming awake from her dream but now she was recalling, school. _Hogwarts._ Somehow that all felt more of dream than what she’d seen of her parents. Dahlia sat up fully beside Harry and felt desperately like she wanted to tell him all about what she’d dreamt but he was looking rather sheepishly at some weird bronze coins in his hands.

“Um— Hagrid?” Harry calls.

“Mm?” Hagrid was pulling on his huge boots.

“We haven’t got any money— and you heard uncle Vernon last night… he won’t pay for us to go and learn magic.” Dahlia frowns at that all, because Harry was right. They didn’t have any money between them, they couldn’t even afford a chocolate bar. How were they supposed to afford the list of supplies and books that had been in that letter?

“Don’t worry about that,” Hagrid tells them, seeming rather unconcerned with their poorness as he stood up in the space and scratches his head. “D’yeh think yer parents didn’t leave yeh anything?”

“But if their house was destroyed—“ Dahlia speaks up, the image of the house of her dreams with the nice front garden present in her head as she tried to imagine it destroyed like it apparently had been.

“They didn’ keep their gold in the house. Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards’ bank. Have a sausage, both of yeh, they’re not bad cold— an’ I wouldn’ say no teh a bit o’ yer birthday cake, neither.” Harry grabs a piece of sausage while Dahlia grabs the cake instead, feeling rather like she was in the mood for chocolate.

She then hands Hagrid some cake while Harry asks, “wizards have _banks?_ ”

“Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins.”

Harry drops a bit of his sausage and Dahlia blinks her eyes wide. “ _Goblins?_ ” the both exclaim. Though she supposes she should try to stop being surprised by the things that were real that she previously thought just fantasy.

“Yeah— so yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it, I’ll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, yeh two. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe— ‘cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o’ fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business.” Hagrid seems rather proud of it. “He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin’ you — gettin’ things from Gringotts —- knows he can trust me, see.” Hagrid stands and moves towards the door, waving along the twins to follow as he says, “got everythin’? Come on, then.”

The boat they’d ridden over in was still there, a bit of water in it from the storm that had now cleared out into a sky free of clouds and full of sunlight gleaming down upon the sea. “How did you get here?” Dahlia asks, not seeing another boat that could have brought Hagrid along.

“Flew,” Hagrid says.

“ _Flew?_ ” both Harry and Dahlia question, eyes wide.

“Yeah — but we’ll go back in this. Not s’pposed ter use magic now I’ve got yeh two.” The three of them settle into the boat, which sunk a bit deeper on Hagrid’s side but seemed sturdy enough to hold them still.

“Seems a shame ter row, though,” Hagrid says, giving them a side-ways look. “If I was ter— er— speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin’ it at Hogwarts?”

The twins both shook their heads and Harry replied rather eagerly, “Of course not.” Dahlia and him both watched with rapt attention as Hagrid brought back out his pink umbrella and tapped it twice against the boat causing them to speed off towards land.

Dahlia laughs a bit, leaning towards the edge of the boat and feeling a bit of seawater spray against her face. Hagrid was pulling out a newspaper while Harry glances over at his sister before turning back to the giant.

“Why would you be mad to try an rob Gringotts?” he asks as Hagrid unfolds his newspaper.

“Spells— enchantments,” Hagrid says. “They say there’s dragons guardin’ the high security vaults.” Dahlia looks back at Hagrid, _dragons?_ Absolutely mad, absolutely wonderful. “And then yeh gotta find yer way— Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh’d die of hunger tryin’ ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on something.” Harry sat back a bit in silence as Hagrid started to read and Dahlia glances over at her brother, maybe now’d be a good enough time as any to tell him about her dream. Hagrid was busy reading the paper, which both of them had learned is a time most don’t want to be disturbed if Uncle Vernon was to be believed. Though, Dahlia was loathe to ever believe anything Uncle Vernon ever told them after last nights revelations.

Before she gets a chance to bring up her dream to Harry, Hagrid is muttering, “Ministry o’ Magic messin’ things up as usual.”

“There’s a Ministry of Magic?” Harry asks and Dahlia sighs and settles back into her spot leant against the edge of the boat knowing she’d lost her chance.

“Course,” Hagrid says, flipping a page. “They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o’ course, but he’d never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin’ fer advice.”

“But what does a Ministry of Magic _do?_ ” Harry asks. Dahlia figures its the same as the muggle government does but she doesn’t bring that up.

“Well,” Hagrid says, “their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there’s still witches an’ wizards up an’ down the country.”

“Why?” Dahlia asks.

“ _Why?_ Blimey, Dahlia, everyone’d be wantin’ magic solutions to their problems.” Dahlia nods lightly, seeing the logic in that well enough. “Nah, we’re best left alone.”

The boat them rocks up to the harbor wall and Hagrid folds up his newspaper. The three of them clambering up the stone steps onto the street. As they walk through the little town to the station plenty of passerby stare at Hagrid, which made more than a bit of sense. Hagrid was quite the sight, twice as tall as anyone else and kept pointing at different things saying “see that? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?” It all made Dahlia smile as they walked.

“Hagrid,” Harry says, the pair of the twins both panting a bit as they had to move quick to keep up with the giants steps. “Did you say there are _dragons_ at Gringotts?”

“Well, so they say,” says Hagrid. “Crikey, I’d like a dragon.”

“You’d _like_ one?” Harry asks incredulously.

“I think it’d be fun,” Dahlia says, linking her arm with Harry as they reach the station.

“Wanted one ever since I was a kid myself — here we go.”

There was a train to London soon, and Hagrid gave the money to Harry and her with the explanation that he didn’t much understand ‘muggle money’ as he called it. More people stared in the train station as Hagrid took up two seats and knitted, soon enough though he asked after the twins’ letters and they each pulled the pieces of parchment out and look them over to see the list of all they’ll need.

It was a lot of stuff it seemed. Robes and cloaks and a hat (pointed which Dahlia found rather funny when she tried to picture it). As well as eight books total and a few other odd equipment like a wand and cauldron. She noticed at the bottom a warning that first years weren’t allowed a broomstick and she was once again reminded of her dream.

“Can we buy all this in London?” Harry asks.

“If yeh know where to go,” Hagrid tells them before they get up when their train arrives. The ride to London Hagrid sat in his two seats and continued to knit and Dahlia finally took the time to lean against Harry.

“I had another dream,” she starts, fiddling with the edge of the parchment.

“Woods or house?” he asks, looking at her.

“House. But it was different from the others.” She informs him, “felt more real almost.” She folds the parchment over, “more voices as well.”

“Really?” Harry turns more fully to look at her, curiosity clear upon his face.

“And…” she pauses a second, “and I’m positive now, it’s our _parents_ , Harry.” She whispers it, because despite how much she likes, and trusts, Hagrid she’s not told anyone but Harry about her strange dreams since her aunt grounded the pair of them the one time she did. She’d much rather keep this all between them.

“Really?” Harry asks, eyes wide and Dahlia felt a pang of wishing once again that she could share her dreams with Harry so he’d hear them too. She settles instead for relaying it all as best she can to him, telling her about the other voices and what they talked about and how she thinks it was their first birthday perhaps.

“Do you think it was a memory?” Harry whispers after she’s finished.

“Maybe,” she shrugs before sighing and settling back against his shoulder. “I was rather close to seeing them. I was just outside the room…”

“You’ve never seen them in your dreams before though,” Harry says. “Just heard them.”

“True,” she sighs again and they feel the train slowing as they near London. “But I’ve seen people before in other dreams like them. Like when I saw you break your leg.”

“But I didn’t break my leg that day.” He tells her.

“Only cause I saw it the night before in my dream.” She sits up and reminds him, “I don’t know what it all is Harry. I just know that it was our parents this morning and that it felt different than usual.” She pauses, “more like the time I saw you break your leg. More real feeling.”

Harry nods but doesn’t get a chance to say any more as they arrive in London and follow Hagrid from through the city until they get to a rather grubby looking pub that Hagrid tells them is an apparently famous place called _The Leaky Cauldron_.

It didn’t look like the sort of place that was famous to Dahlia. Not from the outside that most seemed to hurry past, and not from the inside that was dark and shabby. There were a few people within drinking, and all of them seemed to know Hagrid; waving and smiling at him.

The bartender, an older man who’d gone bald, reached for a glass as they passed and says “the usual, Hagrid?”

“Can’t, Tom, I’m on Hogwarts business,” Hagrid says clapping a hand on both of the twins shoulders and making them buckle a bit with the force.

The bartender peers at the pair of them, getting a bit more stuck on Harry with wide eyes. “Good Lord,” he says, “is this— can this be—?”

The whole of the Leaky Cauldron has gone still and silent and Harry shrinks a bit and Dahlia glances at him worriedly. “Bless my soul,” the bartender, Tom, whispers. “Harry Potter… what an honor.” He hurries out from behind the bar and before Harry can do a thing he’s grabbed his hand with tears to his eyes. “Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back.” He shakes his hand.

Dahlia scoots just the smallest bit closer to her brother who seems quite struck and unsure at the attention pointed their— more specifically his— way. Hagrid was beaming at Harry like he was proud and soon enough all the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron were rushing up to them and shaking her brothers hands. “You must be Dahlia then,” Tom says looking at her and shaking her hand as well, “we’re all happy to have the Potter twins back where they belong amongst the wizarding world.”

It was rather strange feeling, how much more interested they all seemed over Harry. It was a foreign feeling as they’d grown up rather attached. The Dursley’s treating them always the same, horribly, but the same. Now it seemed in the wizarding world that Harry was one of the most famous figures, and Dahlia wasn’t quite as popular.

She doesn’t believe she minds it. Not really. But she does mind how flustered with the attention Harry looks so she quickly settles herself beside him and holds onto one of his arms to grant him some familiarity and so she’s there if someone makes him too uncomfortable.

Plenty of folk introduced themselves and shook his hand, one of which the twins recognized as a man that had bowed at Harry when they’d gone to a shop once with Aunt Petunia. The man, Dedalus Diggle he was named (rather odd name to Dahlia), was flustered at Harry remembering him.

One of the men they met, a pale young man who seemed rather nervous and stammered as he spoke, was apparently one of their professors. Hagrid introducing him as Professor Quirrell, who told them he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was only there a few moments, as the rest of the patrons seemed loathe to let any one hold Harry to themselves and in the end it took near ten minutes before they got away from them all with Hagrid excusing them.

As they move out of the bar and into a small courtyard Hagrid grins at the pair of them, “told yeh, didn’t I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin’ ter meet yeh — mind you he’s usually tremblin’.”

“Is he always that nervous?” Dahlia asks.

“Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin’ outta books but then he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience… they say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o’ trouble with a hag— never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject— now, where’s me umbrella.” Dahlia stood close to Harry who seemed to be thinking over all Hagrid had said and what had happened as Hagrid muttered some stuff to himself while tapping the point of his umbrella against the brick wall.

Slowly, and rather amazingly, the bricks he touched quivered and wriggled until a hole formed. It grew larger and wider until a second passed and they were facing an archway large enough for all three of them. It led out onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of their sight and Hagrid, who was smiling as usual, says to them “Welcome to Diagon Alley.”

The twins both looked through the archway with amazement clear to their face, still linked by the arms they walked through the archway. Harry looked back, watching the doorway they’d stepped through shrink away, while Dahlia continued to stare forward curious as to what the rest will look like.

The sun was shining down on Diagon Alley, the first shop they passed was filled with cauldrons that shone brightly in the sunshine. There were lots of them, all differing sizes and metals. Signs above them listed other features — self-stirring, collapsible— and Hagrid smiles at the twins as they take it all in.

He moves them along though, and though the twins heads both twist and turn to take in it all they walk easily up the street. It was all fascinating, Dahlia caught sight of owls like the one Hagrid had used the night before at a shop, all different breeds. Beyond that a gaggle of boys stood pressed against a window looking at something within while exclaiming about something called a Nimbus Two Thousand. There were shops selling robes, and more cauldrons, and books, and animals, and even some selling telescopes and silver instruments.

Dahlia almost felt overwhelmed, beside her she could tell that Harry was feeling the same way.

Soon enough Hagrid stopped them, “Gringotts,” he says. A snowy white building towered before them, much taller than the other shops. Beside the bronze doors was a figure in a uniform of scarlet and gold that Hagrid informed them was a goblin. It was a head shorter than her and Harry, with a clever looking face and a pointed beard.

There were even more goblins when they entered, all sat on high stools at counters, scribbling in ledgers and weighing coins and examine stones. It was all rather rich looking to Dahlia, which she supposed made sense as it was a bank. Some goblins were showing people in and out of the many doors that were along the hall. Hagrid led the twins to the counter.

“Mornin,” Hagrid said to a goblin who was not currently busy. “We’ve come ter take some money outta the Potter’s safe.”

“You have their key, sir?” the goblin inquired.

“Got it here somewhere,” Hagrid says, beginning to empty his pockets onto the counter which made the goblin wrinkle its nose in a way that made Dahlia frown. Though, she supposes at the sight of some moldy dog biscuits she can’t blame him too much.

“Got it,” Hagrid says finally, holding up a tiny golden key that the goblin leans forward to study closely.

“That seems to be in order.”

“An’ I’ve also got a letter here form Professor Dumbledore,” Hagrid says rather importantly, his chest thrown out a bit with pride. “It’s about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.” Dahlia looks curiously between Hagrid and the goblin as the letter was passed, she wondered what You-Know-What was and also why wizards seemed to frequently say _You-know-what_ and _You-know-who_ rather than just saying it true.

It seems Harry’s also curious, as after the goblin eventually calls along another to escort them, a goblin named Griphook, and they’ve started down a hall Harry asks, “what’s the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?”

“Can’t tell yeh that,” Hagrid says mysteriously. “Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore’s trusted me. More’n my job’s worth ter tell yeh that.” Dahlia frowns a bit but neither she nor Harry press the issue further, because even if she wants to know she doesn’t want to get Hagrid into trouble. And maybe she’ll be able to catch a glimpse when they head to the vault.

Griphook opened a door for them and they found themselves in what seemed more like a mineshaft than a bank, even more so when the goblin whistles and a cart comes along some tracks that they all then climb into. It was rather like a ride, twisting corners and passages that were near impossible to keep track of as they went. She supposes that’s what Hagrid meant when he said one would die of hunger before getting out. It was like an exceedingly complicated maze and she doesn’t believe a single bit that she’d be able to find her way out if she got lost within.

They get deeper and deeper, Harry makes some remark about stalagmites and stalactites. Hagrid looked rather ill as they went and when they finally did stop he got out and leant against a wall to keep from trembling.

Harry and Dahlia stepped out as well, while Griphook went ahead and unlocked the door. Some green smoke came billowing out and when it cleared the Potter twins both gasped at the sight before them. Inside of the vault were mounds of gold coins, columns of silver, and plenty of bronze as well.

“All yours,” Hagrid smiles at the pair of them.

Dahlia and Harry share a look, both rather incredulous at the idea. It was more than they’d ever thought to have for sure, likely more than even the Dursley’s had. It made Dahlia laugh a bit, especially when she thought of how the Dursley’s certainly didn’t have a clue about this fortune because if they had they’d have taken it all. The often complained of the cost of keeping Harry and her, and relegated them to leftovers and hand-me-downs because of it.

But, in truth, it turns out that Harry and her were richer than them.

She wondered if they could use some of it for things other than school supplies. New clothes perhaps, some things for their room at Privet Drive maybe? She supposes that’s a worry for another time, and help Harry and Hagrid pile some of it into a bag, enough to last them each the school year. Hagrid explains the coins as he does, telling them the values of each. 

Then they are off again, heading deeper into the ground until they reach vault seven hundred and thirteen. Once it was opened both Dahlia and Harry leaned forward to catch a glimpse inside. She’d expected it to be even more filled than their own, because she imagined the deeper the vault the richer the contents. But instead she finds that it’s rather empty looking, she fully believes it’s empty until she spots a little package on the floor that Hagrid picks up and tucks away.

She and Harry share a look as Hagrid returns to the cart and they start the journey back, she knows that he wants to ask just as much as her what it is but they both keep quiet.

* * *

Back on the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley with a bag of money that Dahlia wasn’t quiet sure what to do first with, the twins followed the large form of Hagrid until he nodded towards a shop that had a sign denoting it as _Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions._ “Might as well get yer uniforms,” Hagrid tells them, and just from the little mannequins in the storefront windows showing simple black robes with one having pants underneath and the other a simple pleated skirt Dahlia already knew this uniform would be infinitely better than the horrendous smelling grey atrocity that their aunt had been working on in the kitchen a week ago.

“Listen,” Hagrid starts as they moved towards the shop, he still looked a bit ill from the cart ride at Gringotts so it was no surprise when he asked, “would yeh two mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.” Both Harry and her nod before they enter Madam Malkin’s shop just the pair of them.

A woman, a rather squat witch dressed all in mauve with a smile upon her face, spots them as they enter and before they could speak she says to them both, “Hogwarts, dears?” Harry looks puzzled and she adds, “Got the lot here — another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

Dahlia peers to the back of the shop where a pale skinned boy with just a pale blonde hair was stood upon a footstool while another witch worked on pinning up his black robes. Madam Malkin directed Harry upon another stool nearby the blonde boy and began her pinning. Dahlia sat in a cushy chair just next to Harry while she waited for her own turn at it.

The boy peers at the pair of them after a while, and he seems to study her hair before deciding something about it with a shake of his head. “Hello,” he greeted, “Hogwarts, too?”

“Yes,” Harry said, he was trying to stand as still as possible for Madam Malkin and Dahlia smirked at his carefulness, especially as Madam Malkin moved quickly in her pinning, years of experience clearly making the task easy for her. 

“My father’s next door buying my books and Mother’s up the street looking at wands,” the boy had a rather bored sounding drawling voice, like this was all rather mundane and normal for him here. Which, Dahlia supposes, it likely was. Unlike the pair of them this boy had probably grown up with all this odd magic stuff about him. She wonders as he continues on about some brooms how nice it would’ve been to grow up amongst all this. “I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully Father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”

Harry met Dahlia’s gaze and mouthed, where the boy couldn’t see, _“Dudley.”_ Dahlia shrugs as she supposes the boy did resemble the spoiled nature of their cousin.

“Have either of _you_ got your own broom?” the boy continues on.

“No,” Dahlia informs him.

“Play Quidditch at all?”

“No,” Harry states this time. And Dahlia wonders vaguely what quidditch is, recalling the voices in her dream having mentioned it.

“ _I_ do.” He says, and Dahlia does suppose even more that he very much had the spoiled nature of their cousin, though he seemed a bit more haughty the way some of the especially richer kids at their school had seemed. “Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you’ll be in yet?”

“No,” Harry says, his voice timid and Dahlia frowns as she knows he’s likely feeling stupid for not knowing. But truly, how are either of them supposed to know everything about this world when they’ve just entered it?

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been — imagine being a Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” Dahlia doesn’t know what a Slytherin or a Hufflepuff was but she doesn’t imagine being either would truly influence her to leave this world when she’s just stepped into it.

“That’s you done, my dear.” Madam Malkin tells Harry, and he hops down and the pair of them switch spots. Dahlia stands still, though she does look about the shop and smiles when she spots Hagrid stood outside the window with three ice cream cones in delicately balanced in his hands.

“I say, look at that man!” the boy says, clearly also catching sight of Hagrid. Harry looks as well, and smiles at the ice cream same as Dahlia had.

“That’s Hagrid,” Harry boasts. “He works at Hogwarts.”

“Oh,” the boy says, a rather disgusted tone to his voice that makes Dahlia frown and glare at him. “I’ve heard of him. He’s a sort of servant, isn’t he?”

“He’s the gamekeeper,” Harry states, also frowning at the boy and clearly not liking him much.

“Yes, exactly. I heard he’s a sort of _savage_ — lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed.”

“Well for a savage he’s certainly better mannered than _you_ ,” Dahlia snaps, glaring harshly at the boy who looks her direction with a sort of sneer to his face.

The boy glances between the two of them, “Why is he with you two? Where are your parents?”

“They’re dead,” Harry tells him shortly, looking entirely over the conversation.

“Oh sorry,” though he didn’t sound sorry in the least which only made Dahlia want to stick one of the pins Madam Malkin was using on her robes into him. “But they were _our_ kind, weren’t they?”

“They were a witch and wizard, if that’s what you’re on about.” Dahlia replies curtly.

“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine.” It was taking near everything in Dahlia to not hit the boy and to stay still for Madam Malkin, so she looked away from him hoping he’d finish his talking soon so she’d not have to listen much longer. “I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?”

Thankfully neither of them had to answer and carry on with more conversation with the boy as Madam Malkin patted a hand on Dahlia’s arm and told her she was done as well. She couldn’t quite move quick enough off the stool. Harry was up quick too, and she looped her arm quickly with his and began pulling him towards the door.

“Well,” the boy sounds cross at their quickening departure, “I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose.”

“God I hope not,” Dahlia says to Harry, just loud enough that she was sure the boy would hear it and she smiles as they get out of the shop and to Hagrid.

They each get a cone from him, a chocolate and raspberry with nuts chopped atop it in a sugary deliciousness that Dahlia ate rather quickly. Harry was quiet as they ate and Dahlia too preoccupied with savoring the sweet and trying to forget the bratty boy to speak that the three of them were quiet until Hagrid inquired, clearly noticing Harry’s slight downward look. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Harry says, though Dahlia peers to him with a knowing look that that’s a lie. He shakes his head and she sighs and shrugs before they head into another shop to buy some parchment and quills after finishing their ice creams. She smiles when Harry cheers up a little at a bottle of ink that changes color while you write. They’re leaving the shop when Harry finally asks, “Hagrid, what’s Quidditch?”

“Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin’ how little yeh know — not knowin’ about Quidditch!”

Harry frowns and says a bit sadly, “don’t make me feel worse.” Dahlia links her arm back with Harry and squeezes.

“It’s not our fault we don’t know everything about it all yet,” She states, both to Harry to reassure him and to Hagrid to remind him. Harry then goes on to tell Hagrid about the boy in Madam Malkins.

“— and he said people from Muggle families shouldn’t even be allowed in—“

Hagrid interrupts Harry. “Yer not _from_ a Muggle family. If he’d known who yeh were— he’s grown up knowin’ yer name if his parents are wizardin’ folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o’ the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in ‘em in a long line o’ Muggles — look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!” Dahlia thought of her mother, and the boy’s attitude in the shop. She wondered how many people were horrid to her mother like that boy and wanted to stick him with pins again.

Thankfully Harry changed the subject back to asking about whatever Quidditch is.

“It’s our sport. Wizard sport. It’s like— football in the Muggle world— everyone follows Quidditch— played up in the air on broomsticks and there’s four balls— sorta hard ter explain the rules.”

“And what about Slytherin and Hufflepuff? What’re those?” Dahlia inquires.

“School houses. There’s four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o’ duffers, but—“

“I bet I’m in Hufflepuff,” Harry says far too gloomily for Dahlia’s liking.

“Who cares what house you’re in, Harry,” Dahlia squeezes his arm again. “Besides if we are in Hufflepuff then it’s likely a great house. I certainly am not going to listen to what that boy says about anything.” She huffs, “I mean considering his opinion on it I’m sure it’s actually wonderful.”

“Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,” Hagrid says rather darkly. “There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one.” Dahlia frowns and wonders why a school would have a house that was, if Hagrid was to be believed, all bad.

“Vol-, sorry— You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?” Harry asks.

“Years an’ years ago,” Hagrid tells them.

They did plenty of more shopping, more shopping that Dahlia thinks either of them have ever done for themselves in their whole lives. They’d gone for groceries before with Aunt Petunia, but that wasn’t quite the same. They never got stuff for themselves on those trips. Here they’re getting all sorts of things, like a whole collection of school books. The pair of them each getting their own copy of each book rather than having to share like in the past. Each book brand new as well as opposed to used copies.

There were lots of other books, ones not on their school list that caught both Harry and Dahlia’s eyes. Books like _Curses and Counter Curses (Bewitch your friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More)_ which Dahlia found utterly interesting as a means to deal with Dudley for the rest of summer, or with the bratty boy from Madam Malkins (or any other similarly unlikeable kids at Hogwarts). Hagrid had to drag the pair of them away from it with words about not being allowed to use magic in the muggle world, as well as warnings about not being at the level for those sorts of spells yet.

_Yet_. Dahlia certainly hoped to get to that level quick.

They then went to buy some other items, including a cauldron, and then they went to an Apothecary which had loads of odd sorts of items. It had an odd, and horrible, smell from the assortment of items available.

When they left that shop Hagrid glanced at their lists again. “Just yer wands left — oh yeah, an’ I still haven’t got either of yeh a birthday present.”

Harry went red and Dahlia glanced down, “You don’t have to—“ Harry started but Hagrid cut him off.

“I know I don’t have to. Tell yeh what, I’ll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh’d be laughed at— an’ I don’t like cats, they make me sneeze.” Dahlia frowned a bit, she was rather fond of cats though she supposes if its a gift she shouldn’t be too fussy. “I’ll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they’re dead useful, carry yer mail an’ everythin’.”

Twenty minutes later they leave a shop called _Eeylops Owl Emporium_ which had been darkand full of rustling feathers and bright eyes. Hagrid had offered to get them each one of their own but Dahlia had told them it’d be better to share the owl. For one she doubted the Dursley’s would tolerate them bringing two owls home, let alone one. But also she thought it would be rather nice, having a pet to share with Harry. She also didn’t want to inform Hagrid that she wasn’t the biggest fan of birds, while she wasn’t as afraid of them as she’d been in the past she was certain she didn’t want one as solely her own pet.

Despite her own feelings on birds, the one Harry had picked out was rather pretty looking. A snowy owl that was fast asleep as Harry carried the large cage she sat in. The both of them thanked Hagrid, Harry stammering a bit in in it making him sound a bit like the Professor Quirrell they’d met earlier.

They make their way to the last stop, a wand shop that Hagrid says is the best spot for wands. It was a narrow shop with gold lettering over the door reading _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 b.c._ A wand was lying on a faded purple cushion in the window and when they entered a bell tinkled somewhere deeper in the store.

Hagrid sat upon a spindly chair and motioned for Harry and Dahlia to wait. They both looked about the shop, which was small with what must be thousands of narrow boxes piled around them right up to the ceiling. It a bit dusty, and other than that first tinkle of a bell rather quiet. It also made the hair on the back of Dahlia’s neck stand on end with a tingly feeling that she wonders might be the very feeling of magic.

“Good afternoon,” a soft voice greets, both Harry and Dahlia jumping at the surprise. Hagrid also jumps a bit, standing up from the chair he’d sat in.

Dahlia looks about until her eyes land on the source of the voice, an old man with wide pale eyes that shine through the gloom of the dusty shop.

“Hello,” Harry and Dahlia both say.

“Ah, yes.” The man nods, “Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you both soon. Harry and Dahlia Potter.” It wasn’t a question the way he said their names. He moves a bit closer and peers at Harry first, “you have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.” His gaze then turns to Dahlia, “and you have your fathers eyes. He, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it— it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”

He looks once more to Harry, and this time Dahlia noticed that he was looking at Harry’s forehead rather than his eyes. “And that’s where…” Dahlia frowns as the man touches the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger. “I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he remarks softly, “Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do…” Dahlia wonders about wands, the way the man spoke of them it seems much more alive than she’d have otherwise thought.

Mr. Ollivander shakes his head and then spots Hagrid. “Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again… oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn’t it?”

“It was, sir, yes.” Hagrid says.

“Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?” Mr. Ollivander says, sounding suddenly more stern in a way that made Dahlia frown a bit.

“Er— yes, they did, yes.” Hagrid shuffles his feet a bit. “I’ve still got the pieces.” He adds.

“But you don’t use them?” Mr. Ollivander says sharply.

“Oh, no, sir,” Hagrid says, though he grips his umbrella tightly as he does.

“Hmm,” Mr. Ollivander gives Hagrid a rather piercing look before looking back at the twins. “Well, now— Mr. Potter let us start with you. Let me see.” He pulls out a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. “Which is your wand arm?”

Harry looks confused a second before offering, “well, I’m right handed.”

“Hold out your arm. That’s it.” Harry is measured from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and round his head. All strange measuring that almost made Dahlia want to giggle though she kept her composure enough, just giving in enough to give Harry a incredulous smile as he stood stiffly again for Mr. Ollivander. Harry smiled a bit though he bit it back while Mr. Ollivander spoke, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.” Ollivander steps away and Dahlia does giggle when the tape measure kept measuring Harry, now between his nostrils.

Mr. Ollivander was now moving about the shelves, taking down boxes and miraculously (or more likely magically) not causing any of the stacks to tumble despite the loss of boxes here and there.“That will do,” he says, the tape measure dropping to the floor and then he hands Harry a wand. “Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one.” He describes the wand and Harry waves it about (nearly prompting more giggles from Dahlia, which earns her a glare from Harry though she presses her mouth tight together).

It seems that’s not the one, and so he tries another, and another, and even more after that until Mr. Ollivander pulls down one last wand, “I wonder, now — yes why not— unusual combination— holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

Harry takes the wand, looking a bit nervous about another failed wand but once the wand is in his hand he seems to blink and look at it with curiosity. He raises it and brings it down through the air causing a stream of red and gold sparks to shoot from the end like a firework. Dahlia laughs and claps, “Wonderful Harry!”

Hagrid also whoops and claps beside her and Mr. Ollivander cries out his own congrats, “oh bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…” He takes the wand back from Harry and puts it into the box it came from. “Curious… curious…”

“Sorry,” Harry says, “but what’s curious?” Dahlia looks as well, wondering the same.

Mr. Ollivander fixes Harry with his stare again, “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather— just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for the wand when it’s brother— why, it’s brother gave you that scar.”

Harry swallows and Dahlia stares at the narrow box that now held Harry’s wand. She wonders how good an idea it is for him to share a wand similar to the one that killed their parents. She wonders what it means.

“Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter… after all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things— terrible, yes, but great.”

Harry shivers, and Dahlia reaches to squeeze his hand.

Mr. Ollivander shook his head again and turns his attentions then to Dahlia. “Now, Ms. Potter. Shall we get started with you now?”

Dahlia wasn’t too sure she wanted a wand any longer. But she nods, knowing it’s likely a situation where she’s got little choice in the matter. And soon enough she’s being measured by the same tape Harry was, though she feels quite a bit less the wonder at it all as it moves. The weight of what had been talked about before weighing a bit over her as the tape moves about her and Mr. Ollivander moves about the shelves, pulling down wands for her to try.

The first she tries shocks her like she’d shuffled her feet across carpet. The second makes her sneeze. The next several simply do nothing. She goes through even more wands than Harry had, and Hagrid starts too look rather worried as wand after wand fails.

Mr. Ollivander, for his part, doesn’t look too concerned. He looks more puzzled at first, like he’s trying to work out some tough maths equation.

It’s after trying near two dozen wands and reaching both the absolute top and utter bottom of the stacks of wands that Mr. Ollivander comes before her and studies her close enough that he’s nearly nose to nose with her.

“Hmm…” He hums, tapping a finger against his chin. “I wonder…” He glances over his shoulder. “Hagrid?”

“Hmph… Yes?” Hagrid stands back up from where he’d sat down again in the chair somewhere around wand fifteen.

“I need to do some digging about, I’m sure the pair of them could use some early dinner. Come back after and I hopefully will have just the thing I need.”

Hagrid glances at Dahlia worriedly but nods. “Alright then,” he puts a hand on each of the twins shoulders, “come along then. Let’s get yeh both filled up with some food.”

They end up sat eating at some wizard café and Harry and Dahlia eat in relative quietness. Dahlia’s picking at her food when she finally asks Hagrid, “do you think I’ll actually get a wand?”

“Of course yeh will Dahlia,” Hagrid assures her. “Every witch and wizard gets a wand.”

That doesn’t do much to assure her, “what if I’m not enough of a witch? Is that possible? For me not to be magic even though our parents were?”

“If yeh weren’t magic yeh’d not’ve gotten a letter.” Hagrid tells her, “it’s probably just one of them things.”

“Mr. Ollivander didn’t seem too worried,” Harry tells her, giving her a small smile that she returns.

“What about you, Harry? You all right? You’ve been very quiet as well,” Hagrid inquires.

Harry chews on his food a bit longer, quiet and seemingly trying to gather his words. Dahlia sighs a little and knocks her shoulder against his. “Everyone thinks I’m special,” he finally says. “All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander… but I don’t know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I’m famous and I can’t even remember what I’m famous for. I don’t know what happened when Vol- sorry— I mean, the night our parents died.” Dahlia frowns at her food, and wants to hug Harry tight. It was a lot, she wasn’t the focus of it but she could feel it. The weight that seemed to be placing itself upon Harry with everyone’s expectations.

Hagrid leans forward across the table, behind his wild beard Dahlia could make out a very kind smile that she’s come to know from him even in the short time since they met him.

“Don’ yeh worry, Harry. You’ll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you’ll be just fine. Just be yourself. I know it’s hard. Yeh’ve been singled out, an’ that’s always hard. But yeh’ll have a great time at Hogwarts— I did— still do, ’smatter of fact.” Hagrid looked between the twins, “‘sides yer hardly alone.”

“He’s right, Harry.” Dahlia smiles, “your not alone, and I’m certainly not going to let you deal with any of this by yourself. Wand or no wand.”

Harry returns both their smiles and soon enough they’ve finished their meal and begin to make their way back to Ollivanders. Hagrid moving them a bit slow to give the wandmaker even more time between when they left and return.

When they enter this time Mr. Ollivander is already up front seemingly waiting for them. He smiles when he spots them and motions for Dahlia, “come along, come along.”

She moves forward, still feeling a bit apprehensive about the whole thing and still worrying that she won’t actually find a wand. She wonders what will happen if she doesn’t.

Mr. Ollivander still seems to hold very little worry regarding this whole situation though. In fact he looks rather excited and happy as he pulls out two boxes from a spot separate from the stacks surrounding them. He examines her closely once more, and then opens them both and looks between them.

Dahlia’s own eyes look at the two wands. She gazes over the first, a light wood wand that is the shorter of the two. But she looks at that one only a second before her eyes settle on the second, a darker reddish wood that was just slightly longer. It was smooth and unlike both the other wand and Harry’s own was missing a wider handle at the end. Rather it was straight and smooth wood all through it.

“Go on,” Mr. Ollivander instructs and she looks to him before reaching out and grasping the smooth red wand.

She holds it, the wood warm against her palm and fingers and giving a slight tingling feeling for a second like when a limb falls asleep. She raises it slowly and swishes it back down through the air the same way that Harry had with his own wand earlier. It doesn’t produce firework’s like his had, but rather shimmering sparkles fall along the path as she goes. Reminding her a bit of the Fairy Godmothers wand and magic in Cinderella.

Harry claps and smiles brightly at Dahlia who returns it as she rolls the wand between her fingers. “There yeh go!” Hagrid croons, “told yeh it was nothin’ to fuss over.”

“As I thought,” Mr. Ollivander nods.

“What is it?” She asks, warily now as she hopes that it’s not as dower as what he thought of Harry’s wand. As much as she likes the feel of the wand she doesn’t know if she’d want to wield something with ties to some dark wizard or witch that did great and terrible things.

Ollivander takes the wand back and studies it a second, “this wand is eleven inches, mahogany. A phoenix feather core, and quite pliable.” Dahlia furrows her brow, at least some of that sounding familiar. “It did have a previous owner, a Mr. James Potter in fact.”

Dahlia’s brow furrows even further as she looks at the wand before Ollivander packs it away. “That was my fathers?”

“Indeed,” the wand maker nods, “wands can, on occasion be passed down in family lines. Though usually its through convenience rather than because the wand outright chose it.”

Harry and Hagrid have come closer. “How did you know?” Dahlia asks.

“Well I had a sneaking suspicion because of the reactions from the other wands that you, Ms. Potter, were already spoken for.” He finishes packing away the wand and hands the box over to her. She holds it delicately, still processing that it was something her father had owned and used. “I figured it would most likely be one of your parents wands, passed on after they died.”

“I would play with it…” Dahlia whispers, recalling her dream once more.

“Yeh reached out to Dumbledore then?” Hagrid questioned Ollivander, covering her voice though Harry had looked at her when she’d spoken.

Mr. Ollivander nods, “yes. Figured he’d have a clue on where they had ended up, he sent them along for me.”

“So that one’s our mother’s?” Harry asks, looking at the second box, it’s wand still visible.

“Yes,” Ollivander removes it and holds it delicately, “I’ll be sending it back along to Dumbledore. I wasn’t sure which one had chosen you. It seems it’s the one with a bit more power in it.”

Dahlia grips the box tighter and feels incredibly light at the thought that she has something that was her fathers. She has half a mind to ask for their mothers as well but figures perhaps there was some special thing done with wands if they weren’t inherited.

They pay for both the wands and soon enough make their way from Diagon Alley and back into Muggle London. They make their way through the underground, people staring even more at them with their assortment of stuff that included a sleeping snowy owl in a cage. Dahlia keeps the wand box in her hand the whole way, fiddling with the packaging and wanting desperately to take it out and look at it a bit more just to see if she could see any sort of sign of her father in it.

They get onto the train that will take them back to the Dursley’s, Hagrid helping them on and making sure they’re both settled before he hands them two envelopes. “Yer ticket fer Hogwarts,” he says, “First o’ September — King’s Cross — it’s all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursley’s, send me a letter with yer owl, she’ll know where to find me… see yeh both soon.”

Hagrid leaves them, and they both rise to look out the window only to find Hagrid gone after a blink. And sooner than Dahlia would’ve really liked they found themselves back at Privet Drive and amongst the Dursley’s (who hadn’t said a word when they’d turned up).

Their birthday ends with Dahlia curled under her covers in her bed, Harry sleeping soundly in the bed next to hers while she turns her wand over and over in her palm studying it’s every inch. She settles and falls into sleep eventually, but keeps the one thing she owns that is of their parents gripped in her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Just a note about the little part at the beginning, in canon the other marauders weren't allowed to visit the Potter's while they were in hiding (Harry receiving his gifts through other means) but I've decided to change things because a) it works better this way for my story that I'm telling and b) the story is already gonna have canon changes by virtue of being an OC-fic, might as well change other things if I need to. Just wanted to state all this just in case people think I didn't know that it was different. 
> 
> Once again thank you so much for reading! Let me know your thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts I love hearing feedback!


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